


His Camera

by Descaladumidera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Camera, Gen, Grief, Headcanon, Last fight, Sorrow, maybe canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descaladumidera/pseuds/Descaladumidera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a stupid idea, he knew it. His brother's lifeless body showed him exactly how stupid it had been. And only his camera was left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Camera

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Neither the characters nor the places and all that belongs to the world of Harry Potter is mine. The rights belong to JKR. I don't own money with this fanfiction.
> 
> A/N: So, English isn't my first language. If you spot any mistakes, please tell me! I would highly appreciate it. :)

He knew it had been a stupid idea. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He should have stopped him, but he hadn't been able to do so. And how could he? His brother wouldn't have listened to him anyway.

‘I can't just run away! I have to help Harry!’

‘But . . .’

‘I have to! Leave, it's too dangerous!’

And just like that his brother had left and sneaked back into the castle and left him there alone. But he hadn't been able to just stand back as his brother may go and die. And so he had simply followed him. Certainly, he had done it.

It had been terrifying, horrible, and he wished he had to never see something like this again. He knew, these images would haunt him—in the night, in his dream, while he hadn't any control. The images of destruction and death, people he once knew, cruelly ripped from life. And he hadn't been able to do something about this.

He had run through the debris of the castle, had tried to ignore the destruction and the dead bodies lying around, but he hadn't been able to. Every fallen statue, every dead person had shattered his heart even more, had brought tears to his eyes. He had tried to wipe them away hastily, but more and more streamed down his cheeks and he hadn't been able to fend them off. And eventually he just had wanted to curl up on the ground and die.

When he had finally found him, it was already too late. He had wasted too much time mourning the deceased and the once so impressive castle. And now he was too late.

His eyes rested on his brother's lifeless body, which was brought into the Great Hall and placed beside the other victims of this cruel war. Dirt and scratches covered the far too young face, his hurriedly thrown on cloak was ripped and he asked himself, how young and vulnerable he looked to those around him in this very moment.

‘I told you, it's a stupid idea . . .’

He sank to his knees next to his brother and raised a hand to stroke the mousy brown, blood clotted hair out of his face. He shied away at the last moment. He couldn't do that. Touching him meant, it was real. It meant, his brother was dead for sure. It meant, he wasn't there any longer. Never again.

He didn't notice the silent tears streaming down his face again, until a loud sob escaped his lips. Startled he clasped his hands over his mouth, but he couldn't hold it in. Desperation shot through him like lightning, emotions stirring in his guts, until he laid down next to his brother and curled himself into a ball, his face wet with tears. He didn't care. He felt empty.

‘Stand up. Come on, it's too late.’

A hand settled on his shoulder, but he cried out and shook it off. He didn't want to go. This was his brother! Couldn't they understand that? No, they couldn't, they dragged him away from his brother and he couldn't even say goodbye.

‘No!’

He struggled, but he wasn't strong enough. He never was. His brother had been the strong one. He ever had been. And so he let himself been dragged away, crying like a little child. But he didn't care.

He was pushed gently onto the ground, someone checked if he had any injuries, but he didn't pay any attention at all. He just wanted to go back to his brother. But with the last tears he blinked out of his eyes, his fighting spirit left him and he succumbed to grief and let everything wash over him. He felt diagnostic charms being spoken over him, but he wasn't injured. He knew it. And it didn't take a lot of time until they left him alone and that was fine with him.

‘Here. I guess, he wanted you to have it.’

Someone pushed something heavy and cold into his hands. As his blurred eyes wandered to the thing in his hands, he was again overcome with emotions. He didn't know if he should cry or laugh, didn't know if he was slowly going insane.

And just like that he pressed the camera against his chest and was determined to never let it go.


End file.
